


The Book of Ruth: DVD Extras

by MarcellaBianca



Series: The Book of Ruth [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bloodplay, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bottom Steve Rogers, Caning, Cuddling, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M, Whipping, Will be updating tags as I add chapters to this series, but only talked about, but these guys are so annoyingly stubborn, in my universe steve is such a sub, trying to be safe sane and consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-13 18:22:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7981516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcellaBianca/pseuds/MarcellaBianca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of the drabbles and snippets and side stories I didn't put into the main frame of Book of Ruth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wreck Me in the Wine-Dark Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve blinks once. Twice. The weight of the cane suddenly becomes unbearable, an albatross. It hits the floor with a sound that should be louder but the only noise Steve can hear is Bucky screaming. Of the crunch of blood swirling through the icy air. The smell of death. 
> 
> He jumps off the bed. Untethered.

_“Yea, and if some god shall wreck me in the wine-dark deep,_  
_even so I will endure…_  
_For already have I suffered full much,_  
_and much have I toiled in perils of waves and war._  
_Let this be added to the tale of those.”_

\- Homer,  _The Odyssey_

A hand, the one made of human material and not man-made metal, strokes over Steve's throat. "You want to let off? Color, baby. Check in."

 

 

 

"Green, god dammit. Buck, I'm fine!"

Bucky has to hold back a huge laugh. It's very hard to be a stern Dominant when Steve is every bit as bossy and stubborn a submissive as he is in every other moment of his damn life. It's maddening and absolutely wonderful. 

 He leans in. Nips that bossy bottom lip hard enough to leave a dent in the flesh. "If that's how you're gonna be, I might not bring out the crop tonight. And you had asked so nicely, too." 

Steve, bless him, pouts. "You PROMISED." 

"Promises don't mean shit if you keep acting out, Rogers. Now behave." Bucky walks behind him to adjust one of the ties. Steve is strung up in the middle of their bedroom by cuffs that attach to hooks hanging from the ceiling. He could break out at any second. That's not the point. If Steve wanted to get tied tighter, he would. Steve doesn't have many limits when he's subbing. Actually, Bucky is positive Steve might not have ANY limits if he had his say.  

They started playing like this after three years, once Bucky got more confident and the nightmares lessened to a weekly interruption rather than a constant presence. Buck has some things he won't do to Steve when he's subbing. No guns. Ever. Knives MAYBE but more as a threat than anything else. But Steve's personal limits? There ain't much, aside from the guns thing and a few limits regarding cruelty. Steve has never tapped out when he's in this position. Never used their hard limit safewords. 

Sometimes Bucky wonders if that's something to feel good about. For either of them.  

He twists the crop in between his hands. "You tap out the second it's too much, you hear me?" He says it even though he knows Steve won't. "None of this 'I'm captain America and I can take it because I'm hot shit' crap. Okay?" He uses the tip of the crop to draw patterns up and down Steve's back. When Steve is silent, he gets him on the left buttock. Not too hard. But enough. 

 Steve groans from pain and arousal. "Fine. But I'm good, Buck. I'm good." 

"You always are." Buck allows his voice to soften. "God I love you." He raises the whip. 

He can't see Steve's face but he knows his love is smiling when he replies. "I love you too." 

_Crack._

 

***

 

The air rings out with another sound of rattan meeting flesh as Steve levels the cane against Bucky's skin. Bucky howls, pressed against the sheets, as a red line blossoms across his right thigh. Steve chuckles and strokes the sensitive flesh. He's kneeling astride Bucky's ankles so Bucky can't move unless he pushed hard. He massages Bucky's left glute. "Not giving out on me are you?"

"Fuck you," Bucky grits out but the epithet has so much sex dripping behind it it loses most of its sting. Steve leans back and surveys the scene. Bucky is naked except for a gold leather collar around his neck, light red hand prints crisscrossing his back and ass from earlier. He's spread eagle on the bed. Hands and feet are lashed by silk scarves. "What do you want now? Or maybe I should decide for you. Decide what you need." 

"I want it harder, sir." Bucky's voice has a bit of a beg to it.  

"Harder, eh?" Steve tries to keep his Stern voice on, the one that makes Bucky practically come without any touch necessary. "How hard?" 

Bucky sighs and twists his back. The muscles ripple and slide. Steve has never seen anything more beautiful in his long life. "I want anything you can give me. Go hard Steve. Make me yours." 

"Beg harder." 

"Please sir," Bucky chants, voice hoarse from earlier when Steve fucked his face until his cock hit the back of Bucky's throat. "Make me yours, make me come, make me bleed." 

The cane hesitates. "What?" 

"You heard me. Make me _bleed_." Bucky's voice is a taunt.  

Bleed.  

Blood.  

Steve blinks once. Twice. The weight of the cane suddenly becomes unbearable, an albatross. It hits the floor with a sound that should be louder but the only noise Steve can hear is Bucky screaming. Of the crunch of blood swirling through the icy air. The smell of death. 

He jumps off the bed. Untethered. 

His voice is small but Bucky hears it. " _Ice_."

 "Oh fuck." The play state falls from Bucky's voice. "Stevie." He easily rips the restraints off and gingerly gets off the bed. His arms go straight around Steve's chest, pulls him in. "Baby, baby, baby," he breathes. "Oh, baby, I'm so sorry." 

Steve shakes.  

Because he remembers those files. He's seen those videos. The common denominator was the sound of Bucky's voice. A guttural, from the bones howl that tore up his throat and tore up Steve's guts. 

Bucky always tells Steve he doesn't have limits when he's in the submissive state.  

Steve does.  

"I can't make you bleed, Buck. Not ever. Even if it's just with us." He's still shaking but not as much as before and he swore he'd never feel this helpless again. "Then I'm no better than them." 

"When it's you it's okay, Steve. It's not about those people, ever, with you. It's about you and what you do." Bucky's eyes are deep azure with worry and regret but no pain. That's all Steve cares about.

"It's not okay, ever, with me." Steve pulls away from Bucky and drags a fist across his face. "I'm here to protect you. To keep you away from anything that will hurt you. I have my limits for _you_." 

"Hold up. You have limits for me but you can't have any for yourself?" Bucky is still gleaming with sweat but the arousal has been sucked from the room. His sex hangs, empty and forgotten between his legs, and he looks just as frustrated and annoyed as he did all those years ago when Steve insisted on trying one more time to get into the Army at the Expo. The night that changed everything.. "You push yourself so much when it's you tied up and gagged or whatever. And yeah I'm happy to do it, it gets me off, but sometimes it makes me...it makes me ache a little." 

"Why don't you tell me?" Steve's eyes are wide now.  

"...You're fucking with me, right? I could ask the same of _you_ , you stubborn punk!" Bucky snaps. He waves his hand at their current circumstance in a _fucking duh_ gesture.  

Steve looks down at his shoes. He feels small again. It fills him with righteous, holy anger. "I just want you to feel good and cared for, Buck,"  he cracks. He tries to sound bigger than his body but it utterly fails. Bucky can see right through him like thinning smoke. 

"You think I don't want that for you?" Bucky puts his hands on Steve's shoulders. He strokes once. "That's the whole point of this. Remember what we talked about with Lu and Baldwin?"  

A metal finger tips Steve's face up for eye contact. "That's a hard limit now. This is all supposed to be fun. Fun, and play, remember? Us making each other come until we're pretty sure our dicks won't work." Bucky's voice is that same slow tease and Steve chuckles weakly but leans into the touch. It makes him feel fragile again but not in a defenseless way. In a way that conjures up Brooklyn wind and a shitty bed and gasped promises they never thought they would actually get to keep. "I won't ever bring that up again," Bucky continues.  

Amidst the harsh emotion Steve smirks. "Thought I was the one Domming tonight." 

"Oh you are. But this sub is telling you that if you don't have any limits at all, this isn't going to work and we'll go back to regular messing around. To say nothing of what happens when you sub. Jesus, Stevie, I could hurt  _you_." 

"You can't." Steve tries to stop the words from escaping, but they do. 

 And oh, Bucky's eyes go red and watery. "Yes I could. And I have."

 Steve closes his eyes. Remembers a metal fist hitting his face. Of bullets in his side. "I've forgiven you for all that."

"Then trust me." Bucky leans in. Lips brush over Steve's and he feels grounding and security. "I'll never hurt you again. And I know you'll do the same."

His metal hand slides down Steve's stomach. "Now, sir," he says, and Steve bites his lip, "if we forget about the cane and the hitting for a bit, I would very much like to show you EXACTLY how much sensation I can give you that has nothing to do with pain."  

Through the spinning in his ears, Steve snorts. "You have the lamest lines." 

"And they've been working on you since 1937." Cool alloy fingers wrap around Steve's cock. "Color." His voice isn't commanding. It isn't Dominant. It just is.  

"Green," Steve murmurs. His mouth finds Bucky's again, wet and sweet, and all is quiet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically I got sick of thousands of BDSM fics involving Stucky and NOBODY has written a fic in which the safe words are used to stop the scene except for ONE, the AMAZING 'Kotenok' by OhCaptainMyCaptain1918. And I have yet to read a fic about BDSM and Stucky where Steve safewords out of the scene, so TADA. These are two strong super soldiers but they still have PTSD and they're still struggling with their shit and THEY SHOULD HAVE SOME LIMITS. 
> 
> Plus I've realized that in the Ruth!verse, Steve is SUCH a sub, so him domming requires a lot of emotional fortitude. EVENTUALLY I WILL WRITE SOMETHING SUPER FLUFFY OKAY?
> 
> (In the Ruth!verse, the safe words are Ice and Shield.)
> 
> I love comments so much! They give me energy!
> 
> Come wail about Stucky with me on my [tumblr](http://marcellaniello.tumblr.com)!


	2. I've Got A Blank Space and I'll Write Your Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After nearly three years together, for Steve's birthday, Bucky finally shows Steve the page he ripped out of the notebook that carried his memories of the man on the bridge.
> 
> *takes place two years after the conclusion of Where Thou Diest Will I Die)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read the first work in my Book of Ruth series, Entreat Me Not to Leave Thee, this interlude is going to be very random and odd to you. So I'd recommend going back and reading that one so you aren't confused.

It takes three years for Bucky to show Steve the pages he ripped out. They were never for Steve to read, after all. They were written because he couldn't think of anything else to do with the shattered memories in his head. It was either write them down or go kill someone and he didn't want to do that anymore.

First he ignores the urge to share them because it might not be necessarily anymore. They're together, they've got a place in Brooklyn, they love hard, they fight hard, and fuck harder. That should be enough. Then he feels embarrassed by it because it's so deeply, humiliatingly personal.

But somewhere in between missions and casual domesticity and settling into a life so full he can scarcely believe it's his, Bucky realizes he needs to show Steve every part of him. How badly he wanted this even when he didn't know his own mother's face.

It's July and stinking hot. They're resting quietly in bed with the AC on full blast, not talking, not doing much of anything. Just enjoying the silent company of togetherness that was so strange and volatile such a short time ago. Feeling the air soothe their sweating muscles.

Bucky rolls over and stares up at Steve, who's somewhere between drowsy consciousness and the world of dreams. His arms are pillowed behind his head. He seems to realize Bucky's eyes are on him, and he looks down at Bucky with such sleepy devotion it makes the brunet's heart strike against his ribs. "I have to show you something," he says quietly. Steve raises an eyebrow. "Is that a proposition?" 

"You're a dick," Bucky says, voice so fond it almost breaks. He eases his way out of bed and slowly pads to the dresser drawer. He pulls out a sheaf of paper and he can _hear_ Steve's throat close. "'S that what I think it is?" the man on the bed asks softly.

Bucky says nothing. He comes back to the bed and hands Steve the papers. He tucks his legs up underneath his body like a small animal hiding away for the winter and he waits while Steve reads. 

 

**Deleted Pages** ****

_I remember kissing you and thinking the sun had come up in your eyes. I don’t remember every time we kissed, but I remember thanking some kind of God. I don’t know if I believe in God anymore. But I believe in you and your mouth and your body._

_Your body. The way I could count the knobbly bones in your back when you were smaller and fit under my hands. The way I could count the muscles in your stomach after they did what they did to you. I grieved the loss of that man but I learned you again, learned you fast before it was taken._

_HYDRA took that part of me and turned it into a tool or some kind of reward. They think they got me. They think I still belong to them. I never did. I know that now. I’ve always been yours. I’m yours and you’re mine._

_I’m thinking about your tongue, Steve, God, your tongue – I remember the way it ran up and down my throat, how it felt like you could never get enough of me even when we were in the middle of fucking nowhereville Europe, how alive that made me feel, how_ owned _but not in a way that made me feel coarse. I remember the way I slid my mouth across yours, those full lips that made me bloom. The press of my mouth at your heart where everything good and decent is. Marking you, mouthing all the way down until I got my lips stretched around you, when I got you opened up in front of me, or the nights you buried yourself in me. I thought I saw God in your face because God is made of love and you and I, we were made of that, we were_ made _of love._

 _I remember these things in fits and starts. When it happens I feel all of this…_ need _, at the base of me, like I’m going to explode but not in the way_ they _had me explode, in a way that makes me feel love and not fear, in a way that makes me glad to live, and Jesus Christ, I never thought I would feel like this again. I want to fall and know you’ll catch me. I want to grab your hips and see if my grip feels the same…even with the metal arm. I feel like the metal arm wouldn’t be so bad if I could use it to touch you. I want to take you in my mouth and make you gut out my name from some secret place that lives in you. You didn’t say much in bed but you liked it when I did. I think that’s coming back to me now. I remember I wanted you. I wanted you everywhere and nowhere all at once because it was so frightening to want someone’s mouth and body and_ soul _that much and I never wanted it to end, ever, but of course it had to end because no God could ever be gentle with a man like me._

_I’m so hard, Steve._

_I don’t know if that’s because HYDRA trained me to see my body as a sexual weapon as well as a physical one or if I just want you. I just want you, I think._

_I’m so much human garbage I could vomit, but fuck, Steve, I still want you. I want to touch you everywhere. I want to know if you think about me ever when you leave here. I want to know if you think about me when you touch yourself. I want to stretch you out with my fingers, make you tremble on the edge of the earth, and bury myself deep inside of you so we can jump off the world together. I want to remember the sounds you make when you come. I want your_ cock _, Steve, I want it any way I can have it. I want to crawl into you like a fireplace and never leave your warmth. I want to make love to you in every way allowed and even the ones that aren’t because I want the world to know you are mine. You've been mine since before the world began, babydoll._

 _Some day, I’ll let you do that to me. Let you put your hands on me and fuck me the way I know, I_ know _, you’ve fucked me. I can’t right now, but I want to do that some day. I want to because I’m daring to do something I haven’t done in so long. Steve, you make me feel_ hope.

There is a long moment of silence when Steve lays down the paper. He blinks hard a few times. His lashes are wet. Bucky waits, expectant, shy.

He is folded into Steve's arms, quiet and warm and strong. He breathes in and out. He hears "thank you" murmured against the top of his head, into the thick hair he refuses to cut. "I never stopped loving you," he replies. "Even when they had me, when they were trying to take me apart. When I didn't know who you were, who I was...I knew I loved somebody. And even when I was...with them," he swallows thickly, "I knew there was something that could make me hope. Just took me a while to figure out it was you."

Steve doesn't say anything for a long time. Bucky doesn't make him. He just curls up into his love's arms, listens to the gentle rattle of their air conditioner, and whispers, "Happy birthday, Stevie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The notebook was written during the five month period after Bucky dragged Steve out of the Potomac, before he showed up in Steve's apartment to surrender to SHIELD. 
> 
> I wrote the notebook thing, like, four months ago, and I had to put it in this story at some point because I was so invested in it being SOMEWHERE in the story, but I couldn't figure out a place for it. So now I've decided that all the little ficlets and extras will go here. 
> 
> [tumblr!](http://marciellaniello.tumblr.com)


End file.
